


Not In My Gaybar

by justlikedaylightsavingstime



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bar Fight, Bartender!Benny, Bi!Dean, Black Eye, Bruises, Fighting, Fluff, Homophobia, M/M, Punk!Dean, Violence, bi!Dean Winchester, meet cute, punk!Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 19:32:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8297690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikedaylightsavingstime/pseuds/justlikedaylightsavingstime
Summary: Only Dean could start a bar fight and then try to pull the moves on the bartender.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I started this after an incredibly trying evening spent in gaybars with my dad’s Straight(TM) friends. I haven’t been able to find any aggressively queer Dean fics, so here’s one of him unapologetically beating up homophobes. (If you send me aggressively queer Dean fic recs then I will love you forever.) Beta’d by the lovely sadlyshy/theangelcastiella who made me giggle at the thought of Dean with tiny size 6 feet.
> 
> The Denny was meant to be an afterthought, but I ended up writing way more of it than I was expecting. Also punk Dean xD The only thing better than queer Dean or punk Dean is queer punk Dean.
> 
> Warnings: There's relatively graphic depictions of the bar fight, I wasn't sure if it required a serious tag or not, so let me know if you think it does. Also homophobia etc, hate speech, fair amount of violence, blood and bruising. One guy starts to say the f-slur but doesn't get to finish.
> 
> [You can also read this on Tumblr](http://justlikedaylightsavingstime.tumblr.com/post/151892406141/not-in-my-gaybar).

“Get the fuck out of here.” There was something deadly in Dean’s cold tone. Straightening his back and leaning forward, he made sure that the guy in front of him got to take in every single inch of his six feet.

Not that it seemed to stop the idiot. He squirmed a little in his seat, putting his drink down on the table. A frown fell across his face as he took in the blue spikes of hair sticking up from Dean’s head and his rainbow lipring. “Excuse me?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean noticed that the handsome bartender (dressed in what Dean liked to think of as lowkey french pirate fashion, beret and all) he’d winked at earlier had turned his attention onto them. He couldn’t help but feel a little regretful about the trouble he was about to cause the bartender, but Dean had recently made a pact with himself that he was done giving assholes a free pass.

“You just announced to the entire room that you’re not gay. In very vivid terms.”

“I’m not!” The man spluttered.

Dean still didn’t move, managing to keep his voice hard and quiet as he said, “So you’re straight?”

“Of course I am, how dare...” And if the man didn’t actually turn red in the face at the question.

“What about your gender?”

“Well, I’m a man, obviously.”

Somehow Dean managed to keep from rolling his eyes. “I take it from your tone that you were assigned male at birth?”

“I fucking told you, I’m a man. I’ll fucking show you, you fairy.”

“Then I’ll repeat myself. Get the fuck out of here.”

At that the man stood up, starting to square up and clenching his fists. His buddies, there were five of the dickheads, followed his movements, and soon Dean was surrounded. Now those just weren’t fair odds, he thought smugly. He was gonna wipe the floor with those idiots.

The first man gestured round the bar, pulling an obnoxious face as he said. “Why should I, it’s a free country.”

“This is a gay bar. You wanna be offensive, go and do it in one of the millions of other bars that caters to assholes like you. Now go, before I fucking make you.”

The man laughed at that, turning to the bartender to appeal to him. “Did ya hear that? This pansy just threatened us. Shouldn’t you kick him out or something.”

The bartender shrugged, muscles rolling under his shirt with the movement. Once he’d walked round to the front of the bar he raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry, not much I can do. I’m too much of a fairy.”

Realizing that they couldn’t rely on the bartender, the man’s mates seemed to get a bit shifty, one of them tapping him on the shoulder and suggesting that they should just leave. Not that the man seemed to take the suggestion well. “I’m not gonna be scared off by a fucking fa...”

The force of Dean’s uppercut sent the man stumbling back in shock, his eyes narrowing into slits as he regained his footing.

“Try using slurs like that again, and you’ll get to find out exactly what you look like with all your teeth knocked out.” Dean couldn’t help the feral grin that spread across his face and he felt the adrenaline surge through his as he defensively put his arms up in a blocking position.

“You little shit.” The guy yelled, pulling his hand away from his cheek to reveal a little smear of blood.

“You were right to be worried about your ass around me.” Dean growled. “Because I’m gonna kick it into the next century.”

He didn’t even have time to blink before all six guys were upon him. Fists were flying everywhere. The satisfying sound of bone crunching under Dean’s fist was followed by a yell of pain. He darted in an out, giving sharp jabs and making sure he kept a safe distance around himself. At one point he managed to grab a barstool and put some serious force behind it as he hurled it at one of the twats.

Despite the damage his was inflicting, Dean was soon surrounded. Even as he kicked out and and elbowed one of them in the stomach, he felt his arms dragged painfully behind his back. A punch landed on his stomach, sending him to his knees and leaving him gasping for breath.

One of his assailants was groaning on the floor, grasping his crotch. Another one was leaning against the bar, hand held to his head as he swayed from side to side. The remaining three friends of the main douche had all got a hold of Dean, keeping him down on his knees, as the douche himself leered down at Dean.

Dean grinned up at him, taking in the cut on the man’s cheek. He’d been in worse scrapes before, and damn had he done some serious damage. He barely had time to steel himself before the douche’s fist was slamming into his eye. About three seconds passed and then a blinding pain flashed across his face. Fuck that hurt.

Quickly righting himself, Dean prepared himself for the next blow. He’d take everything they’d give him with a big smile on his face. Agonizing seconds ticked by where no one made a move. Dean closed his eyes. All he could hear was the heavy breathing of the guys holding him back and the triumphant huff of laughter from the asshole who punched him. And still no one made a move. After another few seconds passed. Relaxing his shoulders, Dean tentatively opened his eyes just in time to see a big hand slam into the back of the main asshole’s head. The dickhead tipped over in a fashion that wouldn’t have been out of place in a comic book, revealing the bartender with a calm expression on his face. The next thing Dean knew the idiots who had hold of him had dropped him like a sack of potatoes and were racing for the door as fast as their legs could carry them.

With a hand from the bartender, Dean managed to struggle to his feet. And boy, was there some serious muscle hiding under the sleeves of the bartender’s shirt. Dean had a feeling that if he was in an Austen novel he’d have swooned right then. Instead he settled for making sure to take as long as possible to prolong the feeling of the strong arm wrapped around his back.

Alas it had to end, but at least the first thing Benny did after releasing Dean was to tell the remaining two conscious assailants to get going, and to take their ‘friend’ with them. Safe to say that all of the sorry lot were on the ir way out by the time Benny had returned to the right side of the bar.

The bar had been relatively empty at the start of the fight. Dean had been on his way in, and his friends weren’t even there yet. A couple of women had understandably scooted out of the door as soon as the first punch had been thrown, and there was one guy in a cowboy hat sat over by the bar who hadn’t even bothered to turn around to get a good glimpse. The remaining patrons, however, were sat looking at Dean with expressions ranging from mildly impressed and outraged to disapproving.

Dean couldn’t keep the cocky smile off his face as he limped over to the bar, taking a seat with a groan. “Dude, that was awesome.”

The bartender didn’t even have a hair out of place as he returned to putting the clean glasses back onto their shelf. His expression changed more in the second that he raised an eyebrow at Dean than it had during the entire fight.

Dean didn’t let the response faze him as he expanded on his thought. “We showed them where they can stick their homophobic bullshit.”

Seemingly against his better judgement, the bartender smiled back at Dean. “I’d have thought they’d have shown you a thing or two too.” The bartender said, nodding at Dean’s quickly swelling eye.

Dean’s smile grew at that. “Nah, man, I’m incorrigible.”

He couldn’t help but wince though, as the motion pulled at the sore flesh around his eye. A softer look showed in the bartender’s eye as he pulled the teatowel off his waist, filling it with ice and leaning against the bar to place it against Dean’s eye. The bartender’s thick fingers belied a level of softness and gentleness that seemed to suffuse his every movement.

A tender moment passed between them as Dean’s good eye caught the bartender’s eyes. Dean smiled again, causing another wince. “I’m Dean, by the way, Dean Winchester. Thanks for the help.”

“Benny Lafitte.” The bartender responded.

“I mean, I did have it under control.” Dean said, not sure if he was trying to be serious or take the piss out of himself. Benny seemed to take it at face value, letting out a snort.

“You keep telling yourself that, sugar.”

“Well I guess if you’re my white knight, then I’m the damsel in distress.”

“I never saw a damsel in distress with such a big black eye.” Benny replied drily.

Dean didn’t miss a beat. “Well you could always kiss it better.”

“I don’t make a point of kissing dumbasses.” Benny said with a laugh.

“Not even irresistibly handsome dumbasses?” Dean put on one of his most winning smiles and tilted his eye in Benny’s direction. “In case you couldn’t tell, I just winked at you.”

“You might find that line works better for you when you’re face doesn’t look like it’s been mashed up to make dog food.”

“Nah, I’m adorable. A few bruises will only make me look more rugged.” It turned out that even wiggling his eyebrows a little sent a twinge of pain spreading along Dean’s face.

“Sit still, will ya!” Benny admonished, struggling to hold the ice pack in place. Dean took pity on him, taking over the important task of holding the ice pack in the right place. He made sure to brush his fingertips against the back of Benny’s hand in the process.

“So what d’ya say I take you out for a drink and say thanks properly?”

“Brother, you’re trouble on two legs. I got enough trouble in my life without adding you to it.”

Dean leaned forward so he was almost touching Benny’s face. Despite his words, Benny didn’t pull away, even as Dean carefully placed a light kiss against his cheek. Pulling over a napkin, Dean quickly scribbled down his digits, slipping the napkin into Benny’s apron pocket. “In case you change your mind.”

Dean didn’t see the slight blush that crept into Benny’s cheeks. As Dean walked over to the redhead he revealed the back of his denim jacket. In big rainbow letters was written “Stop Gendering Clothes” with a particularly angry looking skull sewn next to it. Benny couldn’t help but smile at the motto, a smile which Dean caught as he turned round to give the bartender a last wave.

Letting out a huff of air, Benny went back to moving the clean glasses out of the washer. He definitely wasn’t fooling Daryl though, as the old regular tipped his hat in a knowing way. They both knew that Dean was a world of trouble, and they both also knew that Benny was gonna be ringing him the next day. He never could resist a guy who was so ready to take on the world (particularly when he was as gorgeous as Dean was).

***

No matter what Dean said he couldn’t seem to shake the mother hen out of Charlie. She was biting her lip as she stared at his eye and the way he was limping. She did ease up on the fussing for a bit, although Dean wasn’t going to count his chickens too early, they were meant to be meeting up with Sam later for their barcrawl (Dean and Charlie had decided to meet earlier to get a couple of gaybars in before meeting up with the others). At least Charlie’s worry seemed to swap out for anger as Dean told her what had just happened.

“I’m just glad Cas is working tonight.” Dean said with a grin. “Remember that time we got jumped outside that gaybar in New York. I’m still amazed that guy made it out alive.”

Charlie laughed at the memory, before getting a suspicious look on her face. “So where does the hunky bartender fit into this bar fight?”

“Errrm, bartender?” Dean said, rubbing his hand against his neck.

“The one you kissed before you left. I’m not blind, Dean.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you. But you have to promise not to tell Sam, I made a bet with him that I wouldn’t get turned down by anyone else before Christmas. And Benny seems to think I’m too much trouble.”

“Benny, huh? I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem. You didn’t see the way he was looking at you as you left.”

“I told you, these leather pants. Nobody can resist me in leather pants.” Dean muttered, punching Charlie on the arm.

“Yeah, I didn’t disagree with you. All I said was that I didn’t want to see you in leather pants.” The face Charlie pulled soon at Dean chuckling, even if it made his face sting.


End file.
